Art and Nature

In the youth of old Time, madam Nature still gay.
And Art, in the bloom of her beauty,
Together for ever, at work or at play,
Were united by love or by duty.

But Time, by lewd Fashion, seducing the maid,
The mother the daughter discarded;
'Till Custom concealing the breach that was made,
The faux-pas grew at length less regarded.

I was told, at Spring-gardens, and this place and t'other
Art and Nature were seen in alliance.
The daughter I met with, but, as for the mother,
Our artists had bid her defiance.

On fresh information I posted to Kew,
And look'd round the princesses gardens,
That both had been there I saw proofs not a few,
Tho some of them not worth three farthings.

Returning to town, on this side Turnham-Green,
Jogging on without thinking of either,
I saw them, tho both seem'd asham'd to be seen
So closely connected together.

In a little thatch'd house, by the side of the road,
They skudded, nor once look'd behind them,
For—had made it his summer abode—
With—you'll certainly find 'em.